


Chapter One, Singer Salvage

by verucasalt123



Series: The Story Begins [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Always the bearer of news, good or bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One, Singer Salvage

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story for my new snapshots table. There will be 30 of them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always the bearer of news, good or bad.

This is the first story for my new snapshots table. Each story stands alone but they will all connect with each other.

Title: Singer Salvage  
Author: verucasalt123  
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Bobby Singer, John, Dean and Sam Winchester  
Claim: Theme 15 – The Story Begins  
Theme: <http://verucasalt123.livejournal.com/230174.html>  
Prompt(s): #4  
Rating: R for language  
Disclaimer: I own no Winchesters, Singers, Murphys or any other member of the Supernatural cast.  
Summary: Always the bearer of news, good or bad.

_Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore_ …Bobby snapped himself out of it. Fucking Poe. It wasn’t even midnight, it was the middle of a spring afternoon. He’d been up since the sun, though, researching a mysterious water spirit that one of his friends thought he had a track on. He didn’t get out for hunting these days too much, relegating himself to the position of ‘hunter’s library’ as age and drink had started getting the better of him. Not that Bobby Singer couldn’t still shoot straight, couldn’t still fake his way past the cops with a pristine fake ID and a smooth line, he just didn’t get a whole lot of satisfaction from it anymore. Hell, the only reason he’d gotten caught up in it was…well, the same reason anyone else got caught up in this life – the loss of someone precious.

Memories of Karen, when she was still Karen, haunted this house like no other ghost he’d faced. The only difference was that he was the one keeping it here.

Bright spots in his life were few and far between, and they often became blurred by circumstance. He’d met a young and green John Winchester so many years ago, still reeling from the loss of his wife and lugging two little boys along with him. Those boys were the bright spots – their father was the blur. As much as Bobby understood John’s obsession with the hunt, he hated seeing what it did to those kids. They’d come to blows more than once when Bobby hadn’t been able to keep his tongue, but all that did was lengthen the time between their visits. Eventually, he learned to keep his trap shut so he at least had a chance to get his eyes on the boys once in a while.

Clearly, he’d earned their trust, especially the younger one. Smart kid, that one, and Bobby hated watching Sam turn from an inquisitive and enthusiastic child to a sullen and angry teenager. He knew he could count on Bobby, though, when he cornered him in the kitchen last year after John and Dean were already asleep. He was applying to colleges, he said, lots of ‘em. But he needed an address. Wanted to know if he could use this one, his eyes desperate, like Bobby was his only hope. No way he could have turned the boy down.

Still, it didn’t prepare him for the day he went out to the mailbox and retrieved a thick package from Stanford University (California? Bobby thought. Jesus, kid, you really wanna run) addressed to one Samuel Winchester of Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

For the first time, he picked up the phone and dialed the number for Sam’s hidden cell.

“You gonna be where you are for a few days, son? I got somethin’ in the mail for you.”

God damn, this was gonna turn ugly.


	2. Mail Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The terror of sheer happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two, Sam POV

It was a bright cold day in April when Sam Winchester sprinted around the corner and skidded to a stop in front of their latest rental. Dropping his backpack onto the ground at his feet, he was relieved to see that his father and brother hadn’t unexpectedly come home early from their latest hunt. Reaching into the mailbox, his heart was pounding, and not just from the six-block run he’d just made from the school. He’d thought maybe his mail from Bobby would have arrived yesterday and had been terribly disappointed when it hadn’t.

Today, though, along with the usual junk and fliers, there was a large brown envelope addressed to him in Bobby’s surprisingly neat cursive. To be honest, he hadn’t wrestled with too much guilt when he’d asked Bobby to help him with this last year. If (when) his dad found out that Bobby had been Sam’s co-conspirator in this endeavor, he’s end up on John’s shitlist in a hot second. But hell, the two of them argued on the regular but they always mended fences eventually. Besides, Sam needed help, and he was damn well going to get it, even if it meant putting Bobby in a difficult position.

He grabbed his backpack and hauled it inside along with the mail. He didn’t know which school this letter was from, but he knew it was a response to one of his stealthily submitted college applications. The fees had been too high for him to send off as many as he wanted, so he’d narrowed it down to four. He went straight to his bedroom and sat down, just staring at the envelope. He even shut the door behind him, like he had to hide even though he was home alone. 

And wasn’t that a bitch? Even if he was in a houseful of family, he shouldn’t have to hide something like this. Over the past year, he hadn’t spoken to his father unless their voices were raised, and even Dean, who he’d looked up to all his life, was distant most of the time. Sam figured he had his own part in that, the two of them just didn’t seem to see eye to eye on anything these days; the easy camaraderie that had always been there between them frayed close to broken. 

Turning the envelope over and over in his hand, he finally got the nerve to open it. Clearly, whatever was inside wasn’t just a letter, it was a packet of some kind. So, probably, not a rejection. Not that Sam thought he was going to be rejected by any of these schools – maybe he was arrogant but he knew he more than met the admission standards for all of them. He even assumed he’d be able to get some merit-based scholarships, hopefully even enough student loans to scrape together money for tuition, and he’d worry about the rest of it when he got the fuck away from here. 

Sliding the smaller, white envelope from the larger one that Bobby had sent, Sam’s eyes flew wide and he broke out into a full-on grin when he saw the logo on the envelope, the block red ‘S’ in the top left corner. Jesus Christ, Stanford was his first choice, and it was the first school to respond. With trembling fingers, he ripped it open and dumped the colorful pamphlets and instructional leaflets onto the mattress, concentrating on the letter that was on top. 

…pleased to admit you to the freshman class of 2001…part of our exciting and diverse program…historical campus buildings…full scholarship…

Sam stopped right there. Went back and read it again. Looked up at the ceiling. Down at the letter. Back to the sentence, halfway down the page. Full scholarship. They wanted him there enough that they weren’t even going to make him pay? 

He wanted to shout, and cry, and jump on his bed like a little kid. 

He wanted someone to call to share this fantastic news with. He wanted his family to be proud of him. He didn’t want to fold up the whole thing and hide it in the bottom of his duffel.

But that’s what he did. It’s what he had to do.


End file.
